AN ODE TO THE ART OF WRITING POETRY
You got me to a bower of mulberry blue,
And made me stick to it like with a glue,
You gave me the joy of expressing the self,
And filled with the books of joy - My shelf.
When I write you I feel I am in heaven,
And I won't be harmed even by the black raven,
You gave me joy and made me pine,
For writing you and craving for you time and again-
Like a glass jar of sweet red wine.
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